A Tale of Deception and Death
by Cestenial
Summary: After being defeated by Rodrigo Borgia, Ezio Auditore finds himself transported to a time and place similar to his own, but something is off. While he's happy to have his family back, he's not sure he wants to stay.
1. The Beginning

A/N: Best viewed in a story width of 1/2.

* * *

Ezio thought he could do this. He thought he could defeat Rodrigo, even when the man was armed the pieces of Eden that they both had sought so long for. But no, as the Auditore was engulfed in golden light emanating from the staff, his doubts also swept over him. It was crushing him. Ezio felt not only the pain from the forces of the enchanted items, but the pressure in his chest from the overwhelming sadness and regret, knowing that he had lost. The Italian's voice was cracked as he muttered to Rodrigo, who was standing over him with the malicious grin Ezio had grown to hate.

"You may win this battle, bastardo, but," Ezio coughed, distinctly having to force himself to take in another breath, "My allies will be persistent. They won't – They won't let you win the war."

Rodrigo's grin only widened as Ezio's vision began to go dark, and the last thing he heard was the Spaniard's voice, cold against even the bitter darkness surrounding him, "You let yourself think that, assassino. Die a death thinking that your side will prevail, but die knowing this: I defeated you."

* * *

There was light, and birds chirping. Ezio was not sure where he was at first, assuming that if there were any afterlife, he'd get punishment for the people he killed, not peace and serenity.

Upon trying to sit up, Ezio felt a rush of pain, and decided that no, he wasn't in the afterlife. What afterlife had pain? Glancing down, the Italian realised that he was covered in the sheets that resembled the ones back in his bedroom in Florence. Had his mother made new sheets for him? Was she speaking once more, as well?

This thought lifted Ezio's heart and he rubbed at his eyes in an effort to wake himself up, groaning at the sunshine in the room. As he stretched, he ignored the pain in his back and sides, letting out a sigh as his muscles moved and joints popped. Someone heard him, he realised, as there was movement outside his door. A knock, then the door creaked its way open, revealing a face that made Ezio recoil in fear.

A deep voice laughed at his sudden movement as the door was opened all the way and lo and behold – Giovanni Auditore made his way inside the room. "Ezio," there was chuckling, "Thought you'd never wake up. You scared your mother and I both. You took a very long fall a couple days ago, do you recall?"

Unable to do anything else, Ezio simply shook his head, no. He didn't recall any falling aside from in battle at the hands of a certain Templar.

"A couple days?" Ezio asked, and upon hearing his own voice, he realised that it wasn't as deep as before. Upon further inspection of himself (mentally, not physically), he confirmed that his muscles were not as honed, nor were his senses. Younger, then. He thanked the heavens above that his Eagle Vision still worked – however, his head was still pounding and he could only activate it for a brief moment.

Giovanni's gaze flicked to his son's face quickly as he sat next to the bed, and after a moment of contemplation, he nodded. "Yes. You climbed the chapel in a race against your brother. You won, but you fell in your excitement." Ezio's father flashed a smile, "Much like myself and Mario. Which, by the way, he's visiting in a few days."

"Uncle Mario?" Ezio repeated the name, mind reeling back to the memories in Monteriggioni with his uncle, sparring and learning to properly fight. "What's he visiting for?"

"He's got some business with the Order to take care of." Giovanni explained, leaning forward to adjust his son's blankets as he stood, "I think you'll be up and about by the time he gets back, so don't worry about not being able to spend time with him."

Ezio watched as his father left the room, curious. As his stomach churned with uneasiness, his instincts told him to activate his second sight, and the world went darker. Ezio glanced to his father, who held no glow whatsoever – Strange, Ezio thought, Shouldn't he be blue? Or white, in the very least.

Giovanni spared his son one last glance before he left and headed down the hallway.

* * *

Several days passed and Ezio's condition improved. Soon he was up and walking again, and after that, climbing up on rooftops with his brother. He was happy to have Federico and Giovanni back, but something bothered him.

Petruccio.

Where was the youngest Auditore? Ezio knew he must exist in this alternate reality (for that is what he assumed it was, and that was what it in fact was), for his bedroom was there and Petruccio was in the family portrait hanging above the mantle.

It would be another day before he got the answer.

* * *

"He has the Sight," Giovanni's voice was low as he spoke to his brother, and Mario took a long sip from a wine glass. There was a palpable silence between the two before the elder of the two spoke.

"How can you tell?" Mario's hand occupied itself with swishing the wine in his glass around, his one good eye watching the red liquid. It was as deep a red as blood.

"His eyes," Giovanni continued, leaning back in his chair. "When he awoke, we spoke. I saw his eyes flash blue." His face contorted into one of disgust.

"Are you sure it was not a trick of the light?" Mario's eye flicked to Giovanni's face, watching his brother carefully as the younger man nodded.

"His eyes are the same colour as mine. There is no way they could seem blue because of different lighting – this I am positive of. Mario, he is the one that we heard about. The _Prophet._" The last word was hushed, as though a sin was being committed. The word left a bitter taste on Giovanni's tongue. Mario's face was grim.

"We have to tread carefully." There was a moment of silence as the brothers thought, and Mario set his wine glass aside, having emptied it of its contents. "Initiate him."

Giovanni took a glance at his brother in surprise. "Now? He has half a year until he's eighteen."

"Yes, but the sooner we do it, the sooner he will learn of our ways. Not theirs." Mario spat, as though speaking of an abomination.

"You have a very good point." Giovanni sighed. "At the end of this week, then. That will give us time to get everyone gathered."

* * *

Ezio ran into his younger brother during a day out of the house – he knew it was Petruccio. He could recognise that boy anywhere, even if he was wearing clothes that befit a merchant's son rather than a noble. He wondered if his family knew of his brother's location.

"Petruccio!" Ezio called out, careful not to be too loud. The boy jumped, arms full with boxes and canvases. They were much like the ones that Ezio had carried for Leonardo so many years ago in his home, where he was an assassin and his family was missing from his life.

"Ezio?" The boy said, his voice hushed, "Why are you here? How did you – how did you find me?" His brown eyes were wide with fear, and Ezio had to pause, to take a moment and look his brother over.

"I- I was passing through the area." Ezio shrugged his shoulders and offered to help carry the things in Petruccio's arms, surprised when the younger boy recoiled and began walking off without him. "Hey," Ezio huffed, "Come on, help me out here, I'm confused."

Petruccio rolled his eyes as he walked in the direction of Leonardo's workshop. "What's there to be confused about?"

"Everything, honestly." Petruccio raised an eyebrow at that, and in a moment of silence, it looked as though a realisation hit him.

"Well, come on. You know where Leonardo works, right?"

It was several streets away, but Ezio walked with his younger brother in silence, wishing that he could be properly enjoying the sunshine on his back and spending his day having fun with his family, not being at a loss for words at dinners and confused about what exactly was going on.

When the two Auditores arrived at the workshop, Ezio opened the door at Petruccio's request, noticing almost immediately that in this world of strange, new things, Leonardo's workshop was the same mess of art supplies and engineering devices as it was before. And the artist himself was the same, arriving downstairs in his work shirt covered in paint and wood shavings, rushing to help Petruccio with the things.

"Petruccio, thank you." Leonardo chuckled and waved the boy over to the table, bringing a bowl of fruit down from the cupboard for him. "Here, I was trying to keep this cool for you. It's rather hot out today, isn't it?"

It wasn't until that moment that Leonardo chose to acknowledge Ezio's arrival with narrowed eyes and hands on his hips. "Why is your brother here, Petruccio? I thought he was one of..."

Petruccio intervened there, mouth full of fruit. "No, remember what my father said? About Ezio. It has to be true, otherwise he wouldn't have known where your shop was." Now it was Ezio's turn to ask questions, butting in the conversation in his growing curiosity.

"What was said about me? Come on now, I'm right here."

Leonardo ignored him. "How can we be sure? He could be trying to get on our good sides," He shook his head slowly, turning his gaze to Ezio, who raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "Ezio? In what way do you know me?"

"I'm not sure," Ezio's eyes trailed to Leonardo slowly, inspecting him. There wasn't much difference from his friend back home. "I remember we were friends. You helped me out all the time. But.." There was a long pause, a sigh, and Ezio shook his head. "I woke up here in Firenze and I'm at a loss. I'm not sure what's going on."

Petruccio watched the two men as he nibbled on an orange slice. Perhaps what he'd heard of – the legend of the Prophet and Ezio being such an important person – perhaps it was true.

"You fell from the chapel, didn't you? Or do you remember it differently?" The artist leaned back against the table Petruccio was sitting at, eyes still narrowed to watch Ezio's reactions.

"No. I remember fighting against a man named Rodrigo Borgia. I remember magic items and somehow... Death." Ezio said.

"Petruccio," Leonardo said, "Go get the codexes."

The young boy stood and rushed off as quickly as he could, leaving Ezio and Leonardo alone. There was a long silence and cold stares from the elder, who simply waited until Ezio spoke. It took what felt like ages for Ezio to piece together a question, the entirety of the situation one big mystery to him.

"How do you have the codexes?" Ezio said. The question in itself was simple enough, but the answer, Ezio knew, must have been more complicated.  
"I had Petruccio find them for me. He's actually quite skilled at sneaking around, even for a boy with an illness."

"Why do you have them? Are they for my father?" Ezio's tone was accusing, offended. He remembered Leonardo being his help, not anyone else's. Was he being selfish of his best friend?

"No, Ezio." The answer came as a shock to the dark-haired man, watching as Petruccio returned with rolls of paper. Leonardo took one and unravelled it, smoothing the paper onto the table. He motioned for Ezio to come look, and what he saw was unexpected. He page was illustrated with an image resembling his sight, dark colours with shades of blue and white and red indicating people. Foreign lettering scrawled across the bottom was a mystery for Ezio, and as he pointed it out, Leonardo nodded.

"I translated these a long while ago." He said, "They speak of you."

"Of me?" Ezio asked, "Why of me? Why do you have these?"

"We're not sure why they're of you just yet, Ezio." Leonardo began to roll the paper back up. "However, they say that you will have a second sight and that you are a Prophet. That you will help all of Italia overcome the power of the Templars. You have to do it – and you have to promise not to tell your father. There's a reason we're keeping these away from him."

"And what reasoning is that?"

Silence.

"Ezio," There was an uncharacteristic seriousness to Leonardo's tone. "Your father is a Templar."


	2. The Initiation

As Ezio lay in bed that night, thoughts ran through his mind, thoughts of how things could be this way, of how this world was so different. Perhaps Leonardo had lied and Giovanni wasn't a Templar – but the evidence that the artist had given after those words pointed only toward Ezio's father being part of the enemy. And after that had been explained, Ezio had retorted with how he remembered his father being an assassin, and how he himself became an assassin. The silence that had ensued after those words had made the young man nervous, but only until the response was given.

And that response as well, was troubling. Not as troubling as a loved one being a Templar, no, but something that Ezio never thought would happen.

Leonardo was an assassin. So was Petruccio. Or, at least, Petruccio was going to be one. The younger Auditore had explained to his older brother that he'd run away because he didn't want to be a part of the Templars like Giovanni and Federico were. He told of some stories he'd heard of Templars from other boys around the area, ones that made even Ezio shudder. Why was his father – the kind, loving man that he remembered, a Templar?

He'd figure this out in the morning.

As things happened to turn out, Ezio's morning was very rushed. He'd tumbled out of bed around noon and headed to have some late breakfast – which was composed of some bread and fruit. Nothing too complicated, he knew, but enough. After he'd scarfed that down, Ezio was about to head outside and head back to Leonardo's, but was stopped by his father.

"Ezio," Giovanni said, hand on his son's shoulder, "There's something we have to take care of today. I want you to clean yourself up and look nice. This is important."

The curiosity on Ezio's face was genuine. "What's going on today? Someone getting married?" He grinned for a moment, but it faded at Giovanni's cold facial expression. No wedding, then.

"No, we're going to take care of some business about half a year early." Giovanni let go of Ezio's shoulder, "Be back home before three, you hear me?"

Three hours. That was enough. Ezio nodded.

* * *

"And then you took his robes - You're telling me Giovanni was an assassin, then?" Back at Leonardo's workshop, Ezio was explaining in detail the story of his world. The one where Giovanni was kinder, and an assassin. The one where Ezio lost his family due to the Templars' lust for power.

"Yes. But, you see, just having the robes, it – it wasn't enough to stop the things from happening. My father still died, alongside Federico and..." He looked to Petruccio, whose eyes had widened at the turn the story took.

"Me? Why me?" Petruccio asked, adjusting himself on his stool. Ezio could only shrug his shoulders, the answer truly unknown to him.

"But you see, after this happened, Mario took me in. He trained me to be an assassin, like my father was. And his father before him, and so forth." Ezio paused a moment, looking to his friend. "And Leonardo, you weren't... You were neutral. At least, you said you were. Something along the lines of needing to have your own path, not influenced by others. But it was influenced, let me tell you." Ezio gave a slight laugh, recalling all the times with his world's Leonardo. Yes, best friends indeed.

This conversation went on for ages, until Ezio heard the bells toll for the third hour of the afternoon and rushed out, already knowing he'd be chastised for being late. Hopefully his father wasn't too hard on punishment here.

* * *

Several hours later and the sun was setting, with Ezio dressed in reds and whites alongside his father. It was strange for him to be wearing these clothes, with the Templar's cross so plainly on the front and the perfumes that practically choked him. God, Ezio hated how strong these scents were. Why would anyone wear something so horrid smelling?

The thoughts were wiped from his mind as Giovanni lead him to the fireplace, which, as Ezio remembered, held his secret tunnels and room where many things were stored – important things. In Ezio's memory, there were documents and the robes that he so adored, but when the fireplace was gone from view and Giovanni lead his son inside, it was barren. No chest, no robes, no plans and maps and documents.

Instead the room was barren and lead into a hallway. A dark hallway at that, but a hallway. Giovanni took a torch from the wall and lit it with the lantern that had been sitting in the room outside the fireplace, and began down the tunnel. Ezio followed, but only after a moment's consideration. This was going to be a long evening.

Ezio expected something more hostile, of course. From the Templars, that was all he could ever expect – but the initiation of his was far from hostile. In fact, it was more a celebration than anything. But the idea of it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"And so, we bring you into our Order, Ezio Auditore, and may the Father of Understanding guide you to your greatness." Giovanni's words resounded through the ornate chapel as he said them, slipping a ring onto Ezio's index finger. Ezio wouldn't lie he could probably get a hefty sum of florins for this ring, but it would more than likely arouse suspicion if it vanished.

"Grazie, father." Ezio nodded at Giovanni, who only grinned silently. Then, from the depths of the crowd, Mario came striding up, arms wide for his nephew.

"Ezio, I'm so proud of you! You are now one of us, you know. Oh, how I long to see your skill with the blades, our swords! You will be getting one, you know, once you prove you can fight." The words were punctuated by pats on the back, causing Ezio to lurch forward.

"Yes, I – thank you for the information, Uncle."

"Come on, then, nipote. We have a celebration to have you attend, don't you know? Look around you – wine and women. All a young man like you could want, right?" Mario's grin was rather intimidating.

Yes, a celebration. But, as he recalled, weren't there usually assassins at Templar parties? Ezio looked around, Eagle Vision activated as he searched for some hint of light. And one was revealed, over in a small group, a flash of white, a traveller's hood pulled up over the stranger's face. This wasn't too surprising, but the person under the hood was. As the darkness around him faded and the colours in the world returned to normal, Ezio caught a glimpse of fair skin and what seemed to be a sandy-blonde bit of hair. That couldn't be...?

"Yes – let me go talk to someone, alright, Uncle?" Ezio pushed away from his family members, ignoring the way that Giovanni and Mario looked from him to eachother, and headed in the way of the hooded stranger.

"Might I offer you a glass of wine, friend?" Ezio kept his voice low as he spoke, met with a gasp.

"Ezio!" Leonardo's voice was hushed, "I should have figured you'd be here. This was your ceremony, was it not? Oh, please don't tell me your father has persuaded you to truly switch sides..."

"No, no. I'd never side with the Templars, no matter who was in their ranks." Ezio said. "Why are you here?"

"It may seem uncharacteristic to you based on how you told me of myself in your world, but I'm here on an assassination contract." Leonardo said, one hand finding Ezio's arm. "A high-profile person, by the way. Not you, though." He smiled beneath the hood.

"Who?" Ezio asked, not bothering to move his friend's hand. "And what way?"

"Giuliano de Medici," Leonardo breathed, "And if I can, poison. I don't like hurting people physically, but it has come down to it on a few occasions."

"Remind me not to get on your bad side, then." Ezio chuckled, and Leonardo followed suit with a soft laugh of his own.

"Excuse me, my target is moving."

It took only a few minutes until Giuliano was lying on the ground, breathing his last, and several women shrieked. Ezio sat and sipped his wine nonchalantly, unphased. He knew that ranks had changed in this world – Lorenzo was, according to Giovanni's lectures, the head of the Templar community in Florence.

Good riddance, Ezio thought, and retreated out of the area. He didn't feel like dealing with the aftermath of an assassination.

* * *

"You saw his eyes, didn't you, Mario?" Giovanni whispered the night after the ceremony, eyeing his brother carefully. Mario could only nod with a frown on his face, disappointed.

"I was very much hoping that it wasn't true. That he wasn't the Prophet that we were warned of." Mario ran a hand through his hair, grumbling something to himself. "There's nothing we can do but try and get him to stay on our side."

"What if he's already on their side?"

Silence took the brothers as grim thoughts passed through their minds.

* * *

Several days passed from Ezio's initiation, filled with nonstop studies of Templar work and history. These bored Ezio, yes, but he'd decided after a quick talk with Leonardo that if he had the information, it would help in overthrowing the Templars, ultimately. Having the information of where they kept their most important artefacts and books and who their high-ranking people were would help Ezio in having the upper hand.

Sitting in Leonardo's workshop with the fire going one evening, Ezio had to admit – it was rather exciting working from the inside of the enemy's lair. He had information that he'd never imagined would be his to own before.

* * *

"Ezio Auditore! What are you doing?" Claudia's voice shrieked in Monteriggioni, her eyes watching as her brother – who'd been in battle with Rodrigo the day before, sat at the small-scale model of the town, knocking buildings over and acting altogether childish. Truly, a man of his age should be mature by now!

"Claudia, when did I get here?" Ezio asked, his hand holding his chin up as he watched another small building fall from his seemingly innocent game.

"What do you mean? We got you from where Rodrigo left you and patched you up – it took at least a fortnight for you to wake. We were all so worried about you." Claudia's gaze softened as she recalled her brother being passed out for so long, being hurt so badly.

"Where's father?"

There was a long silence before Claudia opened her mouth. "I do hope you are not serious, Ezio." The look on her brother's face told her that he was. He was utterly clueless. "Did you lose your memory when you got hurt? Father – Father passed on many years ago. Murdered. By the Templars, remember? That is what got you started here. Being an assassin."

"An assassin." The words on Ezio's lips sounded foreign to him, and it was becoming clear to Claudia that her brother was not himself.

"Last I recall, I was going to receive training to become a Templar, like Father was. However, I have the feeling that something happened here. I'm not where I'm supposed to be."


	3. The Double

There was a familiarity to this Ezio, Claudia knew, but at the same time, he was completely the opposite of the brother she grew up with. He was rude, for one – rude to her, that was, and that had never happened the way it was happening now. Once he'd caught on to the fact that Claudia helped run a brothel, he made non-stop remarks about it. And horrid ones, at that! Claudia was ashamed of her brother (or was he not her brother at all?).

"Ezio, you need to stop lazing around and please, get to work. We need to get some things done around here." Claudia said, hands on her hips as she stared at her brother. "There are buildings that need repair and you're the one that has to get the contractors."

Ezio only made a huffing noise in response, going back to his toying with things on his (alternate's) desk. Quills and ink, and when one vial of black was spilled, he didn't panic or go to clean it up. He'd let his alternate self come home to that – if he ever did.

* * *

"...And one man in our history, Al Mualim, held onto this piece of Eden for a long while, until his student usurped him..." Ezio tapped his fingers against the hardwood of the desk, watching as his father strode back and forth, a large tome in his hands, reciting facts. He glanced over every few moments to make sure his son was paying attention. "Eventually, we hear that Altair's allies moved the Apple and the Staff to Italia. There are also hints that there may be some things in Constantinople, however, that is a discussion for another time."

Ezio felt as though he was going to fall asleep. He knew all this already!

"Are you even paying attention, Ezio? I have half a mind to smack some sense into you." Giovanni's eyes flicked over the top of his book to look at his son.

"Yes, father. I'm paying attention." Ezio almost rolled his eyes, but knew that that would earn him a smack. His father was beginning to get more and more irritable as days went on, ever since his initiation. The same was happening with Federico, it seemed, who didn't pay Ezio even the slightest of mind and refused to partake in activities they used to love.

At least Leonardo still paid attention to him.

Thinking of Leonardo, Ezio realised that he had yet to visit his friend this week. It was almost strange how often he visited his friend, now, but it was needed. Ezio fed information to Leonardo, who, in return, gave said information to the rest of the assassins. Their guild was actually rather well-sized, consisting of people in Florence, Rome, and Venice. Ezio had seen the map in Leonardo's workshop that noted where the assassin Brotherhood headquarters were – there were some as far as in the far East, and they even kept in contact with the Italian bases.

Ezio snapped back to reality when he heard Giovanni's book snap shut, and his father let out a sigh. "You're rather difficult today, child. Go. Get that energy out of your system, but I want you to be back here in two hours!"

Ezio snickered as he left the building, knowing that he wouldn't be back in two hours. Why would he take such a short time?

* * *

Back in Monteriggioni, Mario was pacing back and forth, arms behind his back, as Ezio sat in front of him. The younger of the two looked bored beyond belief, eyes drooping as Mario's mind attempted to work through the situation.

"You are saying that Giovanni is still_ alive,_ where you are from?" His uncle's voice raised for a split second as he spoke, and Ezio could only roll his eyes at that.

"How hard is it to understand? Someone messed with a damn piece of Eden or something, like Father always warned us not to do. Your nephew is probably stuck where I'm supposed to be, which is a hilarious thought in itself. Guy's probably so weak that he can't fight his way out of a home of Templars," Ezio chuckled darkly, watching Mario's eyes flash something threatening.

"Are you saying that the boy I helped to become the great assassin he is today is _weak_?" Mario said, voice hushed.

"Perhaps." Ezio fiddled with a stray thread on his shirt, pretending to be amused by it. "You know, the place I'm from – you're a Templar, just like father, and Federico, and what I was supposed to be." He scowled, "But someone had to mess with something and now your damned nephew is in my spot and is probably messing everything up! Damn him to hell! _I_ wanted that position!"

Mario could only stare in disbelief as this version of his nephew complained about _not _being a Templar.

* * *

It was dark by the time that Ezio realised how much time he had spent at Leonardo's workshop, relaxed on a rug as he moved a his rook across the chess board lying on the floor, watching his friend for any type of reaction. Leonardo gave no hints to what he was thinking, aside from a light chuckle. The elder moved his knight, made of intricately carved wood painted black and shining, and made a move as he took Ezio's rook off the board.

"And I believe that with this move, it puts you in check, my friend." Leonardo rested his chin in his hands as he looked at Ezio, whose face was one of shock.

"That's the third time in a row! You're much too smart." Ezio shook his head as the board was cleared off, turned over, and the pieces put neatly into the compartment in the bottom. He held onto one for a moment, looking it over – and realised he saw a name carved on the base.

He paid it no mind, but he was sure the name was _familiar._..

There was a comfortable silence as the two friends sat near the hearth, deep in thought. Leonardo broke the silence after several minutes of silence, his face one of question.

"Do you want to go home?"

The question took Ezio by surprise, and to be honest, he didn't have a quick answer for it. He thought it through, speaking his thoughts. "I'm not sure. I want to get all the information I can, you know? And at the same time, I think I'd miss being able to be over here all the time. In your shop, I mean." He paused. "I don't really get to spend time with the Leonardo back home. Or Petruccio." Ezio broke into a smile as he thought of his young brother, who was currently asleep in one of the upstairs bedrooms.

"So you want to stay for now?" Leonardo looked at Ezio closely, blue eyes narrowed. There was something about the way he was asking that made Ezio nervous.

"Yes, I think, for now. Until I can uncover what information might be helpful against the Templar order – and, you know, when I can find a way back home. But all honesty, I'm going to miss this."

Leonardo's gaze turned down to look at the fireplace as he sighed. "I will, as well."

* * *

[A/N: A rather short chapter, but I've been having a slight writer's block lately.

Also, chess is a fun game, is it not?]


	4. The Celebration

So terribly sorry that this took so long. I lost inspiration for the story for a while, but I got a sudden shock of ideas at four in the morning and wrote it.  
Again, sorry for the wait, and sorry for any typos in this chapter. I haven't had anyone proofread.

* * *

Mario had questions, and he was going to get answers. He paced back and forth in the main room of Monteriggioni's villa, hand placed under his chin in deep thought. He had so many questions for the boy that had replaced his nephew – the lookalike who was so much younger than Ezio.

Later that night, he approached the young man as the latter was eating. He always seemed to skip out on dinner with the family, it seemed... "Ezio." Mario's voice was steady, deep, as he approached him. There was a glint in his eye that Ezio didn't like – something that promised interrogation for hours.

"What do you want, old man?" Ezio turned his nose up at the elder man and took a sip of wine, "I don't have time for you. I'm trying to find a way back home."

"I want to ask you about your home, young man." He said, eyes narrowed. "What is it that you do there? As a Templar? As Ezio?"

"As Ezio? I sleep with pretty girls and train myself to be a better scout for my father. I work. I spend time with Federico and Claudia. I help my mother when she needs it. Basic things, that your Ezio apparently didn't understand?" He scoffed, "From what I've heard, your Ezio here – He seems hell-bent on revenge and nothing else. What kind of man is that?"

"Revenge is what motivates him, you see. Without that – he never would have gotten the courage to do what he does now. What he's meant to do." Mario paused to let his words sink in, but the effect didn't seem to take place. He scowled. "Ezio wants peace, that's his goal. He wants Templars eradicated because of the tyranny they cause."

"Tyranny?" Ezio stood up slowly, brows knitted together in anger and frustration, "You say we create tyranny, but have you not seen what you do? You take lives of innocent guardsmen, of men who have families and lives ahead of them – for what? Peace?" He growled.

"Back home, back in my place, we fight for peace. We're just not afraid of using harsh methods to do so – but we wouldn't ever kill innocent men like you Assassini do – you slaughter those who simply get in your way, do you not?"

Mario was silent.

Ezio could only grin. "You're quiet – speechless? Have my words struck a chord with you, old man? Do you see what I mean? The fact that your work wreaks more blood than mine... Does it hurt? Does it pain you to know the truth?"

Ezio took a step toward the door. "You don't know anything about the Templar order. You don't know why we fight, but_ I_ know that your methods are worse than ours."

He left.

* * *

Ezio couldn't figure out how long he'd been in this place, this alternate reality. Ages, at least, and yet neither the Templars nor the assassins were making progress toward finding a piece of Eden. Leonardo toiled day in and day out, working to thwart the Templars' plans with the information that Ezio fed him, and Ezio's classes on Templar history and culture droned on and on, the information slipping past him, as he knew most of the things already.

That was, until today.

"Ezio," Giovanni spoke low, voice hushed, as though someone could hear. "There is a celebration planned a few weeks from now – do you think you can take care of a small problem there?"

Ezio nodded once, knowing full well that he would have to carry something through, here.

"Good, now, I want you to look at these papers, and head out. Scout your area. It's important."

* * *

Leonardo had beaten Ezio at chess once again, though it was a close match this time.

"Leonardo, I've been meaning to ask. Where did you get this chessboard?" Ezio said, reading the scuffed name on the bottom of one piece. They were worn and letters were missing, but if he squinted...

"An old friend. Another assassin, you know. Though, from what you've told me, he wasn't your friend." Leonardo chuckled at the last bit, smiling, "Messere Borgia gave me the set when he initiated me."

Ezio's face went white as he contemplated this: Rodrigo Borgia, the man that had killed him, gave Leonardo a chess set as an initiation gift into the assassin order, which he was a part of? "Hold on, hold on. Rodrigo?"

"Yes, of course. He's a very high-ranking member. One of the best."

"Let me meet him sometime." Ezio said, eyes locked onto Leonardo's. He was serious.

"Well, I think you'll be meeting him soon enough, anyway. Didn't you read your papers? His son, Cesare, is turning a year old – you're going to the celebration."

"You read my papers?" There was an amusement in Ezio's tone that Leonardo sensed, and he laughed.

"Well, one of us should. Don't be concerned. That is, unless you're hiding something from me." Leonardo leaned onto the chessboard, arms crossed over eachother as he looked Ezio in the eyes

The younger man's voice was all seriousness as he spoke, a slight smile on his lips. "I'd never hide anything from you."

* * *

September 13th, 1476.

The palazzo near Rodrigo's home was full of people, song, and dancing – as expected for a party dedicated to a child of one of the richest men around. It wasn't something that was done very often, but Cesare was Rodrigo's pride and joy – the little boy with his dark hair and blue eyes, watching with a bright smile as people passed and said hello, gave him treats and hugs and kisses.

Cesare adored the attention.

Everything was going smoothly – the guests got along and Ezio was hidden amongst the crowd. Giovanni knew that his plan would work, as he watched from an alleyway. He also knew that having his own men stationed around the premises was a good idea. Nobody could get in, nobody could escape, and his own personal target was unaware.

Giovanni checked his knives in his sleeves and strode into the party, his black hood drawn over his face. He gave the signal to his men to close off the area, and when Ezio didn't respond to his own signal, he growled. Insolent brat! No matter, he could punish Ezio for these things later on, he thought, blade at the ready. His target was sitting still, unaware of the danger looming nearer and nearer to his back, the silent shadow creeping closer...

"Hello, old friend." Giovanni's voice whispered, and the crowd around him dispersed as his knife found its way to Rodrigo Borgia's neck. "Thought you could leave our ranks and get away with it, did you?"

There was murmuring in the crowd of people around them, but nobody dared make a move.

"Giovanni," Rodrigo breathed, "I expected this to happen; in fact, I knew it would. Our source of information never lies, he never gets something wrong. I knew I was to die today, but I must ask of you one thing before I do."

Giovanni's blade dug slightly into the skin. "What?"

"Leave my child alone. He is but an innocent little thing; What did he ever do to you?"

Giovanni could only grin as his knife tore skin. "Why, he's your child. That's what he's done."

Rodrigo coughed. "You would murder a child for something that he cannot ch-"

His voice was cut off at the same time as his neck; blood pooled on his clothing and onto the ground, and his last sounds were but gurgles of sorrow, knowing that his child was to be without a father.

Then, all Hell broke loose as fights erupted and the child was taken to safety.

Giovanni sneered.

Just as he was turning away, his eyes caught a glimpse of something he feared. Ezio, taking on a Templar, knife in hand, eyes filled with hate.

But they were also blue, to pick out the enemy's colours.

Giovanni knew was he was, he knew deep down in him... He'd just never wanted to accept it.


End file.
